Reality Don’t Rhyme

Reality Don’t Rhyme by Andre Sykes

I grew up running from demons
That wore the same skin as me.
They never cared nor tried to
Decipher rhymes that promised
Childhood dreams,

Instead, they robbed cradles
Left in nurseries with doors unlocked.

Don’t try to sing in the dark–

Don’t let horrified gasps escape from velvet lips clenched shut.

We come from a different type
Of environment with different
Kinds of stories that are never sung
With joyful endeavors–
We come from musty basements
And dirt mixed with tears that
Always stains stainless steel–
We come from the nightmares
Buried beneath the nursery, and
Left underneath the skeletons
Of your ancestors.

I grew up running from demons
With skin the same as mines–
I never had enough breath to
Recite your rhymes.

<strong>Andre Sykes</strong>
Andre Sykes

The designation of oneself as a writer wields a forte of challenges. That is for certain—for most, the self-identification of one’s gifts, and a proper re-naming is even more difficult to imagine. In places of passivity, we often find ourselves, dismayed with the untruths of our environments, and complacent in our efforts to identify with such behaviors. 

Andre Sykes, in his youth, named himself a poet. Growing up in Detroit, he faced his challenges with a literary effort to articulate, understand and dissect the circumstances of his being. For him, poetry was a serious attempt to accept and understand those challenges. He has been published in the Santa Clara Review and is currently working to publish his first chapbook entitled “Black Birds Singing” as we’ll as his first debut book of poetry called “Chlorine Trenches”

Follow his work on Instagram: @sincerelytrulypoetic

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